Mine Shaft Murder
by LunaOlivia
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate missing children in a small town in Ohio. But things get messy, as usual. Hurt!Sam Protective!Dean
1. Roadside Attack

**Author's Note: So this is my very first Supernatural fan fiction. I have been hooked on Supernatural since season 1 episode 1 and itching to write something recently. This popped into my head at random and decided to roll with it. I am a lover of hurt Sam. Don't know why, maybe it's his adorable puppy dog eyes or Dean's protective side that comes out. Either way, I plan on having **_**plenty**_** of hurt Sammy in this story ^.^**

**DISLCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I do not own Supernatural or any of its awesomeness. If I did I would be the happiest girl in the world. But alas, only the thoughts in my head are mine.**

Sam and Dean drove down the empty highway, Dean's music blaring as usual and Sam's head leaning against the window as he dozed in the passenger seat. It was another normal day for the boys, another day of driving, sleeping, and looking for the next hunt. They were headed toward a small town in Ohio. Reports of missing children that later turned up dead outside an old house were surfacing every other day now. At first it was just a kid here and there. They would go out one night and weren't found until a week later, their bodies outside the town's haunted mansion, their throats slit and their hands bound. It was pretty brutal from the information Sam had gathered. So far, ten kids had gone missing this month alone.

The drive took almost ten hours though. Dean was speeding, as usual, and it still felt like forever. He wanted to pull over and stop for the night at one of the many motels they passed. But he knew Sam wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he did and another kid went missing. Hell, he wouldn't be able to live it down. So on he drove, not stopping at the bright lights that promised a night of sleep in a dingy room with an old mattress.

Dean cranked up the music, singing along, and hoped this drive would end soon.

When Sam woke up he wasn't surprised to hear Dean's usual music blasting through the speaker accompanied by his brother's off-pitch singing. It was a usual occurrence when Sam fell asleep in the car. Dean got bored, he'd crank up the music, sing along, and then wait for Sam to wake up so he'd have someone to pester and mess with. Sam sighed, this drive was one of the longest ones they'd had in a while.

But he felt it was worth it. The newspaper articles from Avordton, Ohio were disturbing to say the least. Avordton was a small, old town. Less than 300 people, and a lot of history. It was a former mining town, riddled with old mine shafts and huge old homes. The people around there came from old money and they all tended to keep away from the newer, bigger cities. There were also a lot of myths and legends floating around the town. One was a about a miner that vanished from his house one night and was never found. The same house all the kids kept disappearing in.

Sam knew there had to be some kind of connection and it hadn't taken much to convince Dean of the same. Something supernatural was at work in this little town and they were going to stop it before any more kids lost their lives.

Sam sat up in his seat, reaching for his laptop that sat at his feet. Dean lowered the volume on the music, "How far are we?"

Dean sighed, "About another hour or so. We should make it there before nightfall though. We can head straight to the house when we arrive, check it out before heading to a motel. Maybe we can end his one quick."

"When is anything ever 'quick' for us when it comes to a hunt?" Sam asked sarcastically, switching on his computer and typing away, "No new articles about missing children. Hopefully that means our ghost is keeping quiet until tonight."

Dean nodded in agreement, "It would be nice if we could end this before anyone else died."

Same shut his laptop and leaned back in his seat, ready to sleep off the last hour of their drive when Dean suddenly slammed on the brakes. Sam jerked back up, his seatbelt yanking on his neck slightly, and saw why Dean had stopped. A man in old-fashioned clothes stood in the middle of the road holding a rusty pick ax. His clothes were smudged with dirt and a dark stain encircled both wrists and his throat.

"What the-" Dean didn't get to finish his sentence before the man was charging at them, pick ax raised high. His voice opened in a wide yell as he ran at them, murder burning in his eyes, "Dammit!" Dean quickly shifted into reverse and slammed his foot onto the pedal. They shot back one hundred feet before Dean shifted back into drive and sped toward the man, swerving at the last instant to avoid him. But the man threw the pick ax at the window next to Sam and the window shattered, a sharp pain slice through Sam's shoulder and he cried out as Dean sped down the road.

"Sam, are you ok?" Dean asked, still speeding down the road but turning his head to look at Sam every few seconds.

Sam held his right shoulder in a tight grip, feeling the warm blood oozing over his fingers, "Gah. I think he got my shoulder."

"Dammit!" Dean glanced at the rearview mirror before pulling over. He got the first aid kit out of the trunk and hurried to Sam's door. There was a large dent in the door where the pick ax hit and the window was completely gone. But Sam was what worried him most. Blood was pouring from his shoulder. Dean opened the door and moved Sam's hand and jacket away from his shoulder. There was a deep stab wound in his shoulder from the tip of the pick ax. Sam was going to need stitches.

"How bad?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

"Stitches," Dean said, rummaging around in the first aid kit and pulling out all the supplies he would need for this. He would have preferred doing this in a motel room, where he knew they would be safe. But with the amount of blood pouring from his brother's shoulder he knew he couldn't risk it. He would have to patch him here and now.

Sam took in a sharp breath as Dean began to clean and stitch the wound, his left fist clenched as he tried not to voice his pain and look strong. As usual. His eyes were shut and his head was resting on the seat, his breaths quick and shallow as Dean finished up his stitching. Half a roll of bandages later and Sam was ready to go again.

They started driving again, Sam on his computer and Dean sitting in quiet anger. That man had hurt his little brother. Whoever he was, he was going to pay. No one messed with his brother without suffering the consequences. Not while Dean was around.

Dean waited until they had been driving for a good thirty minutes before speaking, "What the hell was that?"

"I think that was our ghost. According to this, the mines extend almost fifty miles out of town. It looks like our ghost haunts more than his old house. He's haunting the mines he used to work in, and probably the mines he died in," Sam said, wincing when he moved his shoulder the wrong way.

Dean said nothing for a minute, "So basically, we have over fifty miles of mine shafts to search to find this guy's body?"

"I don't think so. The night Adam McCreary, our ghost, died one section of the mines conveniently collapsed. No one's been in them since. My guess, he's in that section of the mines," Sam looked up at his brother who was thinking his words over.

"How are we supposed to check a collapsed section of a mine shaft for our guy's body? There's a reason no one goes in those things when they start collapsing. It's a freaking death trap," he said finally.

"If we don't start hacking at the walls we should be fine. We just have to be careful," Sam said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I don't like it. Especially now that you're hurt, you're barely moving your arm. This just got a whole lot harder," Dean sighed, noticing the sign for Avordton. They were only a few minutes out now, "Where is the collapsed section of the mine shaft?"

"About a mile from McCreary's house," Sam said, typing again as he pulled up a map of the mines, "There's an entrance to them half a mile from his house. Somehow, I don't think that's a coincidence."

"Nothing is ever a coincidence."

**So? How was it? Not too terrible I hope ^.^ I am **_**hoping **_**to have the next chapter up soon! I have already started it but school is a real bugger when it comes to getting chances to write! Hope you enjoy this story and stick with it!**


	2. Abandoned

**Author's Note: Ok. So hopefully this chapter satisfies your Supernatural fix for a bit ^.^ I wanted to put more Dean protectiveness in but I don't want too much just yet. I'm going to stop typing before I give anything away on accident! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I still do not own these lovely boys and their sexy goodness. But if I ever did get to own them I would be happy forever. **

Avordton, Ohio was a small town with one major road running through it. Either side of that road was lined with tall, old trees and mom and pop diners. There as one gas station, a bakery, a grocery store, a boutique, and a barber. That was it for the main road. There were many small country roads that broke off the one they drove down. Most winding away toward the large manors that were known to inhabit this area. The one they were looking for was the second to last turn-off. The road was bumpy and shrouded in shadows by the thick canopy of leaves overhead.

"How far until we reach this place?" Dean asked, his eyes turned to his little brother. Sam's face looked pale without the sunlight and his shaggy hair hid most of his expression, but Dean could still see the hard set of his jaw. He was hurting. That made Dean even more eager to kill this ghost. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Sam took a moment to respond, his body readjusting to a more comfortable position, his right arm laying over his lap and his shoulder muscles tight to brace against the bumps, "Not too far. It should be about a mile or two from the main road. You're going to have to turn down another road to get to it."

"I still think we should just head to the motel and start in on this tomorrow. Give your shoulder a chance to heal somewhat. We can ask around town tonight. See what people know," Dean said his voice gruff. The thought of Sam going into a hunt, much less a hunt in a mine, with his right shoulder out of whack was not appealing. They would be vulnerable down there.

"If we let this thing go another night there could be a new victim to add to the list, Dean. We have to get rid of this thing as fast as possible. Before another kid dies," Sam was set in his opinion. He didn't want to miss the chance to end this before it got any worse. One kid dead was enough, but ten? That was ten too many.

"I still don't like it."

Dean turned down the small road Sam pointed out and began the trek up to the house. The "road" was more of a trail though. Cars obviously hadn't driven this path in years. Vines and flowers and grass had overtaken the red dirt gravel that had once covered this land. Soon, the path was too thick with vegetation to drive any further. That only made Dean like this even less. He had a bad feeling about tonight. And every time he got a bad feeling it never turned out good.

Sam and Dean climbed from the car, Sam a little slower than Dean, carefully extracting his long body without jostling his shoulder too much. Still, Dean didn't miss his slight grimace when his shoulder brushed a nearby tree. His bad feeling was growing more and more by the minute. He sighed and popped open the trunk, lifting the false bottom and revealing the artillery hidden beneath.

He grabbed his shotgun, a dozen rock salt rounds, and a canteen of lighter fluid before turning to Sam who was attempting to grab his own shotgun and rounds. It wasn't working out too well. He had hunted with only one good hand before but it never got any easer it seemed. After a few minutes he looked at Dean expectantly, his shotgun hanging at his side and his spare rounds tucked away in his pocket. Dean shook his head but shut the trunk and led the way up the drive.

They walked for about ten minutes before the manor came into view. It was huge. The white clapboard covered with vines and the sidewalk up to the porch cracked and crumbling. The front door hung at an awkward angle on its hinges and most of the windows were broken. This house had to be at least one hundred years old and it had been vacant for thirty of those years. Why were kids just now starting to disappear though? Shouldn't this have been happening for years? Their ghost friend had died nearly forty years ago, so why start attacking now all of a sudden?

When they reached the sidewalk leading to the porch Dean thought he knew why the killings had just started. Biohazard signs and police tape were scattered across the overgrown front yard. One strip of police tape fluttered eerily in the wind, half of it tied around a thick tree trunk. This place was locked down tight for a while by the look of things. But now people were venturing back into its depths, and not making it out alive.

"Looks like up until the last year or so this place was completely shut down, no one allowed in or out. That would explain why the killings just started," Sam's voice echoed his thoughts as he crouched down to read one of the fallen signs, "'Caution: Hazardous gases present. Do not enter'. So much for that warning."

Dean didn't comment, heading toward the front door. He wanted to avoid the mines tonight at all cost. They could investigate those once Sam's shoulder wasn't completely immobile. This house could keep them busy for two or three hours Dean guessed. It was three stories and he guessed there was probably a basement. Most of the older houses they investigated had huge basements. Ghosts loved a good basement, "Alright let's go."

They made their way cautiously up the rotting steps to the front door, shotguns held up and ready for anything. Dean's eyes darted around everywhere, trying to double and triple check everything before ducking under the door. Sam was close behind, bending his huge body in half to enter the house. Inside it smelled like mildew and dust. It wasn't a pleasant smell but it also wasn't anything new in their line of work. Most places they visited either smelled like blood and death or old creepiness. Why couldn't they go somewhere that smelled halfway decent? Always the big, creepy houses or the cold, creepier morgues.

Ahead of them was a grand staircase that twisted up to the second floor. It was probably pretty at one point, but now it was covered in dust, debris, and spider webs. Nothing grand about that. Even if it wasn't night yet with all the trees around things got dark here quickly, Dean could barely make out anything besides the staircase. Sam's flashlight flicked on and Dean turned to see his right hand gripping the small light tightly. His face was twisted in pain but he didn't seem to want to let it bother him. Dean grabbed his own flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on, sweeping it over the area around them. A doorway to their left, a hallway to their right, and another hallway in front of them. This was definitely going to take a while.

"Let's see what's behind door number one," Dean said, his boot kicking open the old door. It let out a whining creak as his moved on unoiled hinges. If the ghost wasn't aware of their presence before there was no doubt he knew they were here now. Perfect.

Sam was trying very hard not to show his pain. He could see the worry on Dean's face every time he looked at him. He hated making his brother worry like that. So he put on his strong face, ignored the pain, and followed his brother to the house. It was an old thing, shattered and broken from years of disuse. Nature was taking over.

When they reached the door he knew he would need to fight not to show any pain. The door hanging at an odd angle that would be difficult to get his tall body through. Dean ducked under the door with ease. He envied his brother sometimes for being four inches shorter than him. It made things a lot easier in cases like this where height was a disadvantage. He had to almost bend in half to make it through the door, his right shoulder burning and throbbing painfully. But he fought to keep his face a mask of nothingness. No pain, no emotion. Nothing.

When he stood inside the house it was hard to discern anything besides a decrepit staircase. It was already dark in here. He reached into his pocket with his right hand, wincing slightly when his shoulder moved. He clicked on the small light and scanned it over the area. The floor was covered with dust and debris and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls revealing yellowing plaster beneath.

"This place is a mess," Sam said as Dean clicked on his own flashlight. Things didn't look any better even with twice the light now.

The door being kicked open echoed through the house, the loud screeching of its hinges reverberating throughout the building. No way would their presence go unnoticed now. That ghost would know they were here and would probably show up at any moment. Just like usual on one of their hunts.

"Let's move quickly. That ghost will probably show its ugly face any second now. No way we're going unnoticed with all the racket those rusty hinges made," Dean said, his gun held at the ready as he swept his flashlight across the room. There were rusty pots and pans scattered on the floors and counters, pieces of glass and porcelain covered the floors making soft crunching noises when they moved. Obviously, this was once a bustling kitchen. There was a huge gas stove in one corner and a wide hearth in another. A chipped pot lay on its side next to the heart, a stain coating the floor beneath it. Whoever had lived here last left in a rush. And in the middle of meal time too.

"Whoever lived here was in a hurry to leave. But why? Was out friendly neighborhood ghost haunting them?" Dean asked, voicing Sam's thoughts. Something had driven the previous owners of this house away, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was their ghost.

"Alright, it doesn't look like there's anything worth finding in here. Let's head back out and check the other rooms," Dean said, one last sweep revealing nothing out of the ordinary.

They headed back out to the main foyer and searched the rest of the first floor. There was a parlor, a dining room, a study, a few bedrooms, and a small library. But nothing turned up in any of those rooms. Just more signs of the panic the former residents had left in. scattered papers and clothes and torn sheets and curtains. The second floor was much different.

On the third floor they found a room with a padlock on the handle. The first one in the house to be barricaded in any way.

"Looks like our former residents had a secret they wanted to keep hidden," Dean said, bending down to inspect the lock more closely.

"Why would one room in this entire house be locked up? Especially on the third floor right by the stairs? What could they have been hiding?" Sam asked, hearing the click of the lock.

"Let's find out," Dean pulled the lock from the handled and opened the door cautiously. It opened silently on its hinges. The only door in the entire house that didn't make a sound.

Inside the room things were still very well preserved. This room had to have been locked for years. The furnishings were old and outdated with a thick layer of dust covering them. A canopy bed was pushed against the far wall, the posts still intact but dull from negligence. The quilt at the foot of the bed was a faded red while the sheets and pillows were yellow with age. The nightstands on either side of the bed looked like they were made from very old wood, along with the matching dresser against the opposite wall.

Sam brushed his hand across the top of the dresser, it came away black with dust, "This room hasn't been occupied in years. My guess is the last family here wasn't even using it. This furniture has to be at least eighty years old. Maybe even older. This could be the first furniture ever placed in here. How much do you wanna bet this was McCreary's room when he was still living? No wonder the family would keep it locked up. If they thought his ghost was hanging around they wouldn't want the children wandering into his room and getting killed."

"That would make sense. But-" Dean was cut off when a lamp on one of the nightstands came flying at his head. He dodged just in time, the lamp slamming into the wall and shattering into a million little pieces that showered the floor.

Standing in front of one of the windows, only slightly illuminated by the faint light that could permeate the trees, was the ghost they had met on the road. Adam McCreary's ghost.

**Well? I tried for a little cliffy since most of this chapter was pretty dull. But no worries! I'll try to make the next chapter more exciting! Hopefully I'll have it up within the next few days ^.^ Reviews are greatly appreciated! :D**


	3. Help

**Author's Note: Eep! I'm sorry this took so long to get posted! Things have been so crazy in my life recently! I hope to have the next few chapters up pretty quickly while I still have time to write them :/ Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate, sorry it's a little belated ^.^**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, I still don't own these wonderful boys **

Adam McCreary was dressed in smudged overalls, thick sooty boots, and a torn long-sleeved undershirt that was black from ash and dirt. His hair was stringy and matted with blood. One long cut ran across the length of his throat, dried blood covering his neck and shirt. His wrists were bruised and frayed roped hung limply from them. His eyes were alight with anger as he took the brothers in. His eyes darted between them before settling on Sam and his right shoulder. A slow smile spread across his face. And then he vanished.

"Sam! Get down!" Dean's yell was urgent and worried, his arm quickly raising so his shotgun was pointed just to the right of Sam's head. Sam dropped to the ground, instinct kicking in, his body automatically reacted to those words now.

A loud shot rang out and he heard McCreary yell out in frustration before vanishing. Dean lowered his gun and rushed to Sam's side, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Sam said, he opened his mouth to say more but McCreary wasn't quite done with them yet. The dresser flew across the room and slammed into Dean, sending him out the door and into one of the walls. His body fell to the floor with a _thud_ and he didn't get back up, "Dean!" Sam's head darted around, his eyes searching wildly for McCreary. He couldn't see him anywhere. Where could he be hiding? A soft groan from Dean had Sam's eyes back on his brother. He stood and tried to run to his brother's side but he was thrown across the room, his back slamming into the wall opposite the bed. He yelled in pain, his right shoulder on fire. He felt warm blood sliding down his arm. His stitches had opened.

His body slid to the ground where he sat, trying to catch his breath and swallow the pain. He struggled to his feet, getting ready to reach for his gun, but McCreary wasn't having that. Before he knew what was happening Sam was slammed into another wall, stars dancing across his vision. This time, he didn't try to stand. One more slam like that and he would fall unconscious. Dean was stirring slightly, another low groan escaping his lips as he struggled onto all fours. The bedroom door swung shut with a loud _slam!_

"Dean!" Sam yelled as loud as his injured body would allow. This hunt really wasn't going good.

Dean felt his stomach drop when the door slammed shut before him. Sam was trapped in that room. Alone. With a seriously pissed off ghost. Dammit. This hunt was getting worse by the second. He got to his feet as fast as his bruised body would allow, staggering toward the door. He shoved and shoved on the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge.

He heard Sam scream once before everything fell silent. The one scream was enough for Dean to begin panicking. He knew that scream. He dreaded hearing that scream. Because Sam never screamed like that unless he was in pain of the worst kind. The kind that could leave him in the hospital for weeks or longer. The kind of scream that at one point, had meant death for his baby brother.

Finally, the door opened, flying back on its hinges with an awful screech. Dean practically fell into the room, his eyes darting around the room. But there was no bloody or broken Sam, no menacing miner ghost. There was no one. The room was empty save the furniture and Sam's shotgun. Dean walked over to his brother's weapon, noticing blood smears next to it. He felt like he was going to vomit. There was a small pool of blood a few feet away from the gun and Dean knew that whatever had caused that scream also caused this blood. Sam was injured badly and the ghost had him. And Dean had no idea where they could be.

Sam's eyes opened slowly, his mind groggy and his body throbbing. He nearly cried out when a burning pain shot through his ribs and shoulder. His couldn't move is wrists or feet and his left side was numb from a cold surface beneath him. Slowly, he took inventory of his condition. Blood seeped through his shirt around his right shoulder and across his chest. Right where his pain was the worst. His head was throbbing slightly, but he couldn't feel the warmth of blood anywhere around his neck. Both of his legs seemed fine and his left arm wasn't in any kind of pain. Just numb with cold. At least it didn't seem like any of his bones were broken. He could work with a slash or two

Sitting up took a little work, but eventually he was able to get his body somewhat upright, if not a little crooked. He surprised to find the surface at his back was slightly soft and spongy. It was just as cold as the floor but it felt different. He couldn't see much just by glancing around, the only source of light was and old small lantern, but from what he could tell he wasn't in the house anymore. He wasn't even sure if he was above ground anymore. He could hear dripping in the distance, it echoed off the walls softly.

And then he heard a soft scraping no more than ten yards to his right. That sound sent shivers down his spine for reasons he really didn't want to think about. That sound meant McCreary was coming for him. And Sam didn't want to think about what that meant. He didn't want to think about all the pain that was coming his way. He wanted to back with Dean. He only ever felt safe when Dean was within eyesight. Right now, he had no idea where he was or what was going to become of him.

And then McCreary was standing before him, his face twisted into a horrible sneer. He reached down with soot-covered hands and bloodied wrists. Sam tried to back away but there was nothing he could do. There was nowhere he could go. And even if there was an escape route there was no way Sam could get away. He was too wounded and he didn't doubt McCreary knew every inch of these tunnels.

McCreary's fist gripped the collar of Sam's shirt and he lifted him from the floor like he weighed nothing. Sam couldn't fight him off like this. Not with his wrists and ankles bound and blood leaking from his shoulder. And then a sharp pain erupted in his abdomen and he couldn't hold back the scream that ripped from his throat. When he looked down he saw a slim blade protruding from the right side of his abdomen. He winced as McCreary dropped him to the ground. Blood was oozing out of his body around the blade's hilt. He knew that if he pulled that blade out he would start losing blood fast than was safe. Another blow to his ribs with the blunt edge of McCreary's pick ax and he felt a rib snap. This time he could not scream, the breath was knocked from his lungs.

Three blows to the legs and ribs later and Sam felt his mind slipping, slipping, falling. And then, there was only blackness.

**Ok, so I **_**should**_** be able to get another chapter or two up before I have to start studying for my finals! And then I should get chapters up faster. I have a new job as well, so hopefully that doesn't hinder my ability to update! Again, reviews are welcome! In fact, I greatly appreciate them even if they are critiques! ^.^**


	4. Relief

**Author's Note: Ok, here is the next chapter. And I'll even be nice and post it early since I left you with such a cliffy! I will admit that cliffys are a lot of fun! Maybe I'll do more from now on! *laughs evilly* I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the sexy goodness that makes up the Winchester brothers, but how I wish I did!**

Dean slammed his fist onto the table of the motel room. His frustration and anger was boiling over. He couldn't find a trace of Sam anywhere. Not in the house or on the surrounding land. The only signs that Sam had even been in that room was the pool of blood and his shotgun. His shotgun that was now resting on the table next to Dean. He had been looking at that shotgun for hours now, trying to figure out what to do.

But still, he had no idea what to do. It was too late in the day to ask around anywhere about the whereabouts of the mine entrance. He would have to wait until morning before he could even ask around. But waiting like this was killing him. He didn't like to think about Sam being alone with that ghost. From what Sam had said the ghost kept the kids he took for a week and then they were found dead outside the manor. He had six days to find Sam.

Finally, after staring at the shotgun longer than he could stand Dean got up and left the room. He slid into the driver's seat of the Impala and left the motel. He couldn't just sit here waiting. He had Sam's laptop and a map. He would find that mine entrance tonight and get Sam out of there. No matter what.

When Sam finally became conscious once more he immediately wished he hadn't. Every part of his body hurt. But especially his abdomen where the knife was still protruding. It wasn't a long knife so he didn't anything any of his major organs had been hit but it was long enough to hurt like hell and make blood seep into his shirt. His shirt that was no longer white but scarlet around the knife's hilt. He groaned.

On top of the stab wound he was fairly certain at least two of his ribs were broken. His legs were throbbing painfully but he didn't think any of the bones were broken. For that he was grateful. When Dean did show up, because he knew his brother wouldn't just leave him, he wanted to be able to walk out of here somewhat of his own free will.

The only good part about his situation at the moment was that McCreary hadn't shown his face again. So for now, he was safe from more harm. But he didn't know how long this peace would last. From the stories he'd read about the taken children they were always covered in wounds. So far, he was nowhere near what those children had been through.

There was a scraping sound and Sam's heart plummeted. That momentary peace was about to come to an end and soon his world would be pain once more. He only hoped that this time, unconsciousness would take him faster than before. He didn't think he could take much more of the abuse this ghost had to dish out.

McCreary took no time starting in on him. Sam wasn't sure how much longer his body could hold out against this. A sharp blow to face and another to his sides and then he was falling once more. Gratefully, wonderfully falling into the depths of blackness.

Dean was armed with a shotgun, flashlight, and shovel as he parked the Impala on an old, abandoned road. According to Sam's research and the map in his car this was the closest road to the mining entrance. He only had to walk about half a mile north and he should run into the old entrance. It hadn't been used in years but Dean hoped that the ghost still kept it somewhat intact so taking the children under the ground would be easier.

He was walking for about twenty minutes when he noticed a small path in the trees where the ground was flattened. He followed the path for a few more minutes before he spotted something red on the ground. When he crouched down to get a closer look he felt his stomach flip. Blood. There was blood smeared across the flattened grass. It was dried but he could tell it was smeared across the ground within the last couple of days. He didn't doubt it was Sam's blood. He needed to move fast. So far, the amount of blood he'd found was more blood than he was ever comfortable seeing when it came to his brother.

Up ahead there was a gentle slope in the ground that led straight into a small cave. Upon closer inspection he realized it wasn't really a cave. At least, not a natural one. He could see wood underneath the overgrown vines, weeds, and grass. Old, decaying wood that looked like it had seen better days. The ground was packed dirt and the walls were held up by wood that looked slightly newer than the posts holding the entrance up. But that could have been because under the earth they were safe from the rain and snow and ice that could wreak havoc on these woods.

He flicked on his flashlight, ducked, and entered the mine. It smelled like mildew and soot. Dean wrinkled his nose slightly. It was not a pleasant combination. He walked for a long time before he came across piles of dirt covering the path and wood chips littering the way. The walls grew shorter and narrower as he went. He had a feeling he was getting closer to the collapsed portion of the mine. Hopefully, he would find Sam there. And hopefully, his baby brother wouldn't be close to death. Or worse.

It was a few yards later when he came across a portion of the path that was just wide enough for him to pass through. Again, he could see where Sam's body had been dragged. There was more blood on the ground. He quickened his pace.

And then, as he passed around the next corner he heard a noise that made his blood run cold. A loan groan followed by a loud _snap_ had him running. He rounded another corner and that's when he saw him. Sam was leaning against one of the walls, his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles bound in front of him. McCreary was standing over him, pick ax raised, and he turned when he heard Dean. He let out a shout and ran at Dean. But Dean wasn't letting him win this time. Dean fired twice and the ghost vanished.

Dean ran to Sam's side and felt his anger boiling over once more. Sam's eyes were closed, his face slack. He was bruised and bloodied and he looked like he was barely alive. Upon further inspection Dean found a knife protruding from Sam's abdomen. Blood soaked his shirt turning the white fabric scarlet and Sam's breathing was labored. Dean didn't doubt a rib or two had been broken. McCreary would pay for this.

Dean lightly tapped Sam's face, "Sam, Sammy? Come on, Sammy, wake up. We gotta get you out of here. I can't carry you out of here by myself. You're too tall and gangly," Dean's voice was worried and frightened. He couldn't help letting the emotions seep into his words.

It took several more taps before Sam groaned softly and his eyes opened halfway, "De..?"

"Yeah Sammy. It's me, I'm here. We're gonna get you outta here okay? Can you stand?" Dean asked, removing the ropes around his wrists and ankles. Then he threw one of Sam's arms over his shoulder and pushed them both off the ground. Sam was leaning heavily against Dean, barely supporting his own weight as they staggered from the mine. It was tough in some spots where before Dean had barely made it through alone. Now, he was having to maneuver Sam's tall body as well.

Eventually Dean could smell the air from the forest and he sped up slightly. The sooner they were out of this mine the better. Dean didn't like not having much fighting room. If McCreary decided to attack them now Dean wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold him off. And he knew that if a fight happened here and now he wouldn't get away unscathed. If he got away at all.

Finally they were stepping out of the mines and into the fresh air of the forest. It was a relief to be able to stand up straight and have room to fight if need be. The moon was high in the sky and some of the rays were breaking through the thick canopy of leaves. Not much of the light was able to reach the ground but the few patches of moonlight were helpful in navigating back to the road and the Impala. The entire time they walked Dean kept up a steady stream of soft, pointless conversation. He didn't say anything important but he hoped it would keep Sam awake.

When Impala came into view dean's body sagged in relief. They had made it. Now he just needed to get Sam back to the motel and dress his wounds before he bled out. And then the fun stuff began.

**So I have found there is no better time to write a Supernatural story than when a new episode is being aired! I watched this week's episode while writing this and seeing and hearing the boys helped out ever so much! ^.^ hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up soon! Reviews are greatly appreciated! **


	5. Hunt

**Author's Note: Eep! I'm**_** so**_** sorry! My internet has been down and then I had finals, and then it was the holidays so I haven't been able to put up a new chapter! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope you will still read this story! :D **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the sexy goodness that makes up the Winchester brothers, but how I wish I did!**

Sam's eyes opened slowly and he was confused to find his wrists and ankles freed. And beneath him was not hard-packed earth but a somewhat comfy mattress. He was stretched out on a bed in a room with gaudy wallpaper and one lone window. A motel room.

He glanced to the side and found Dean sleeping in a chair next to his bed even though there was another bed not ten feet away. He was wearing his clothes from yesterday still and his shoes were on. He had to have been sitting in that chair all night tending to Sam. He felt a small smile on his face, leave it to Dean to get all protective and concerned.

Sam started trying to sit up but he stopped before his shoulders left the bed and gasped as a sharp pain shot through his body and head. It was like a fire burning under his skin. He let a small gasp out, the small sound of pain slipping out between his teeth. He glanced at Dean and was glad to see that he was still sleeping. Sam was sure Dean hadn't been sleeping long and he didn't want him to wake up now.

So he gritted his teeth and sat all the way up, placing his hand on the nightstand to try and help relieve some of the pressure on his abdomen and stop the spinning. He was shirtless he realized and when he glanced down he saw stark white bandages wrapped around his midsection. There was a thin line of red in the middle of the bandages. He remembered the stab wound and grimaced. More bandages were around his shoulder once more, making it a little difficult to move his arm but not impossible.

Slowly, he moved his legs around the bed and onto the cold floor of their motel room. The bathroom was only a few feet away but it felt like it was miles in his condition. Just looking at the distance he would have to cross made him nauseas. But he made himself stand and move toward the door, step by agonizing step. His head was pounding and his stomach was burning. He was at the door when the pain became agonizing. He braced himself on the door frame, trying to calm his breathing and swallow the nausea rising in his throat.

He was next to the small shower when his legs gave out. He held onto the shower curtain, hoping to stop his fall, but that only delayed the inevitable. The shower curtain and rod came down on top of his beaten body and he heard a crack as his head hit the floor, causing the pain in his head to triple and spread. His vision swam for a second and he swallowed the bile in his throat.

Then he heard footsteps hurrying toward him and knew Dean was awake. Dean was crouched beside him a moment later, worry etched across his face, "Sam, you okay?" Dean lifted Sam's head, his eyes glancing at the sore spot near his neck. Sam could feel warm liquid trickling down his neck and back. Dean hissed, "Why did you try walking on your own? You should have woken me up."

"Didn't think…it was this bad," Sam said in a small, pain-filled voice. He let Dean help him to his feet, leaning heavily on his older brother's shoulders. He heard Dean give a small grunt but no protests slipped past his lips.

"Next time, if I'm sleeping in a chair next to you that means it's bad," Dean's voice was sarcastic as he lowered Sam to the bed gently. Sam let his head rest against the pillow once more and let out a long breath. His whole body was screaming in pain and he had to focus on breathing so he wouldn't scream.

"You okay? You need some pain pills?" Dean sounded anxious as he looked at his little brother. He was already reaching for his bag on the ground, fumbling blindly for the pill bottle he knew had to be in there somewhere.

"How bad is it?" Sam whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak any louder. From what he could tell the worst injury was the stab wound. It felt like a few ribs were broken but all of his other bones seemed to be intact.

"Three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, concussion, bruises and cuts everywhere, and a stab wound to the abdomen. It wasn't easy to keep you alive, Sammy. I almost took you to the hospital twice. You're going to be down for a while. I'll finish up this hunt and then we'll head to Bobby's where we can lay low for a while. Bobby's expecting us already ," Dean said, still rummaging around in the bag.

"I'm not resting until we finish this hunt. Things just got personal," Sam said, his voice a little stronger, determination and conviction seeping into his words. He wasn't about to sit back while Dean salted and burned the bastard that did this to him.

"Sam, you're in no shape to fight this bastard. He's strong. I'm not gonna be able to watch your back _and_ mine when we fight. Stay here and rest. I'll be back by evening, no problem," Dean said with a short confident smile that didn't reach his eyes. He stood and grabbed his leather jacket, slipping his arms through the sleeves.

Sam was already forcing his battered body into a sitting position, not about to let Dean go off and fight this thing on his own. His feet touched the cold floor and he struggled to stand, swaying slightly but not falling back to the bed. Dean looked ready to force him back into bed, using force if needed, "Dean, you know that if you leave me here I'll just follow you on foot. Alone. Would you rather me going alone or with you, where you can keep an eye on me?"

Dean sighed in aggravation, "Get your coat and let's go. But if I think you aren't able to do this we're coming straight back and next time I'll go alone. Hear me?"

Sam nodded, grateful. He pulled a clean coat from his duffle, noticing the bloodstains on the one he was wearing before, and slowly followed Dean from the motel room. The impala sat right outside the door, ready and waiting.

Both boys climbed in and headed toward the old manor.

Dean stopped the car about a mile from the house, relying on his memory from rescuing Sam about the entrance to the mines. They climbed from the car, armed themselves, and cautiously approached the smattering of trees and shrubs. The path was overgrown and a little difficult to maneuver but they managed to find the clearing Dean had found the night before.

Dean could hear Sam panting behind him and turned to see that his brother's face was pale and he was sweating profusely but his eyes were determined and dared Dean to tell him to go back. Dean sighed softly, no way was Sam going to just lay in bed and wait for Dean to return. Stubborn kid.

When they reached the mouth of the mines Dean stopped and looked at Sam, "You take the rear. I'm hoping our little friend will go for me first if I'm closer to his body. If you see him, shoot. We can't take chances with this one. Hopefully, we'll be able to find his body quickly. If we're lucky, he won't come out until it's too late."

Same nodded, once, and followed Dean into the dark overgrown mines. The inside was dark and musty and even with both their flashlights on it was hard to see. That made Dean a little uneasy but he knew there wasn't much they could do about it. They were going to have to deal.

They were deep in the mines when Dean heard the scraping. The sound sent shivers up his spine; the metal grating on metal was piercing. He felt Sam tense behind him and turned to see his brother's eyes darting around frantically, "Sam? What is it?"

"He's coming. He'll be here soon…no, no more. Please, stop it. Let me go, stop!" Sam's flashlight fell to the ground as he crumpled to his knees. His whole body was shaking and Dean could just make out the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Dean crouched down next to him, gently shaking him and calling his name.

"What's wrong? Sam? Sammy?" Sam's pleas turned into whimpers and made Dean wonder just what this ghost could have done to make his little brother act like this. Normally, Sam would try to hold in his fears and never show any weakness. Something about their miner ghost had really spooked him.

"De, don't let him hurt me anymore. No more, please," Sam's voice sounded like a frightened five-year-old. Dean wasn't sure how he was supposed to fight this ghost, which was getting close every second they wasted, and protect his cowering little brother.

"Sammy, I'm not gonna let him hurt you. But you've gotta help me out okay? I need you to stand up though and try to fight. He can't hurt you while I'm here. No one can, I'll always protect you. Just like I always have," Dean said, hoping to break through whatever had overcome Sam's usually strong will.

After a few moments, the scraping growing louder every second, Sam nodded and stood, "Alright. Let's just…get this done. I'm ready to get out of here and never look back." His voice was still a little shaky but he sounded determined and that was all Dean needed to know that he could do this.

**Ok, so again I'm really sorry for the delay! I don't think I'm going to have wifi at my house again for a while so my updates will be a bit sporadic! There's probably only going to be a couple more chapters, and hopefully they'll be up before spring break! Well, tootles for now! ^.^**


	6. Escape

**Author's Note: Wow! It's been a **_**long**_** time! I'm so sorry about the insane delay! I **_**still**_** don't have wifi at home so I'm posting this in between classes. My spring semester ends soon and I won't have much access to wifi when it does so I will **_**try**_** to get this story finished up before then! Thanks to all who have stuck with me so far!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the sexy goodness that makes up the Winchester brothers, but how I wish I did!**

The scraping sound was overwhelming now and Dean knew they didn't have much time before the ghost was on them. Fighting in these mine shafts wasn't going to be easy. Especially not with Sam in his current condition. But there wasn't anything they could do about it. Unless…

The sound was coming from in front of them. If he could find some way to backtrack and lead the ghost out into the forest clearing while Sam hunted for the bones then they just might be able to pull this off. Now he just had to convince Sam to go along with the plan.

"Sam. I'm going to lure him out to the forest. Duck into one of the little side passages we passed and when you hear me shoot, start looking for those bones. I'll hold him off as long as I can but you're going to have to move fast. Understand?" He glances back at his little brother's pain-filled face and wonders just how this is going to work.

Same looks ready to protest but understanding dawns in his eyes and he grudgingly nods, "Fine." Dean hadn't expected his hard-headed little brother to give in so easily. That was just proof of how much he was hurting.

Dean turned back the way they came, following Sam, and was grateful when the scraping followed. Sam broke off to the left and hid in the shadows while Dean continued his trek back out of the mines. He really hoped this plan worked.

~~O.O~~

Sam wasn't happy with Dean's choice in planning but with how much his body hurt right now he could care less. They needed to get this job done soon or he wasn't going to make it out of here alive. And neither was Dean. He couldn't let his brother get hurt or die because of his own mistake. He was going to have to tough it out and finish this quickly.

He waited for what felt like hours, listening as the scraping sound became louder and louder and his insides became tighter and tighter. He felt like such a wimp for being scared of scraping but there was nothing he could do about it. And then, McCreary's ghost stalked past, his gait slightly uneven and his pick ax dragging across the ground. He didn't even glance in Sam's direction.

Then, he waited for the gunshot, Dean's signal to move his ass, and rushed as fast as he could toward the center of the mines. He vaguely remembered the way to where McCreary held him but a lot of it was a foggy mess in his brain and he ended up getting lost twice before reaching the wooden post and caved in shaft. Dirt dusted the ground where he stood. And when he took a step it would puff up around his ankles. The closer he got to the caved in portion, the thicker it became until he was practically wading through it.

He assumed McCreary's body would be in the thicker spots of dirt, easier to hide and less likely to be found. The only problem was getting to those spots. It took him almost ten minutes just to reach the tightly-packed wall of dirt the cave-in had formed and another ten to dig through it and locate the first of the bones. It was McCreary's skull. Hopefully, the other bones wouldn't be far away.

For the next twenty minutes Sam dug and dug, ignoring his protesting body, and pulled out bone after bone until finally, he had a full skeleton piled behind him. He turned and began to make his way toward the pile when a sudden force slammed into him and sent him flying toward the wall of dirt. His whole body screamed in agony as the breath was knocked from him. He was pinned against the caved-in wall, unable to move an inch. He saw McCreary slowly approaching him and felt his heart tighten with fear. Where was Dean?

~~O.O~~

Dean groaned as his eyes slowly opened. He really should remember not to fight with trees. He never won and he always came away with a new scar or bruise to remind him. Slowly, he struggled to his feet, his head pounding as his vision spun. He threw out a hand to steady himself against a nearby trunk and let his body adjust before trying to walk.

He didn't see McCreary anywhere and that could only mean one thing. Sam was in danger. Ignoring his headache and the warm blood slowly trickling down his neck, he ran toward the mine entrance. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, he only hoped he wasn't too late. Running through the mines was not easy. His flashlight still worked somewhat but it wasn't nearly bright enough. He almost ran smack into a wall three times and he got lost once before he heard the sounds of a struggle. And the strangled cries of his brother. He picked up his pace.

What he found when he rounded that last corner made him furious. Sam was pinned to the caved-in wall of the mine, his arms and chest bleeding from gashes and his head hanging limply. Thankfully, his chest was still moving up and down in ragged little pants but other than that he was still. The damn ghost was standing in front of him, pick-ax raised to hurt his brother again. Dena's gun was up and his bullet fired before the ghost had time to turn. He vanished in a cloud of smoke.

Sam fell to the ground and toppled on his side. He didn't attempt getting up. Dean wanted nothing more than to run to his brother's side but he needed to make sure McCreary wouldn't come back when they least expected it. His bones sat in a pile a few feet from Dean. He quickly salted them and watched them burn before running to Sam's side.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean patted his cheek gently, trying to elicit some kind of response, "Come on sasquatch I can't carry your huge ass outta here. You're gonna have to wake up." Still nothing. Blood and dirt caked Sam's face and his hair was a knotted mess that hung over his eyes.

"Come on Sam, wake up man," he patted his cheek again.

Thick brown eyebrows twitched and slowly glassy hazel eyes were revealed. Dena grinned, "About time you woke up Samantha. I was thinking I would have to carry you back. Can you stand?"

It took Sam a moment to respond, his eyes slowly clearing as he took in his surroundings. And then his face twisted in pain, "Think so. 'M g'na n'd he'p."

Dean slipped Sam's arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own arm around his brother's waist before lifting them both off the ground. It wasn't easy and they almost fell right back over, but soon they were slowly making their way toward the exit, leaving the burning bones of Adam McCreary behind.

By the time Dean lowered Sam into the Impala his head was hanging heavily and his chin rested on his chest. His eyes were still open but only just and his breathing was slowly evening out. He was close to falling unconscious and Dean debated what to do. Should they go to the hospital or should they head back to the motel? Dean knew Sam hated hospitals but he wasn't sure how badly Sam was injured. He could easily sew up some cuts and splint some broken bones but it was internal damage that made Dean hesitate.

Sam groaned in pain and shifted on the seat and Dean decided. Hospital it was then.


	7. Final

**Author's Note: So I think this is probably going to be the last chapter in this story! I am thinking about another one already though so hopefully I'll get it going soon! ^.^ Now, on with the Winchester goodness!**

**DISCLAIMER: Oh how I wish I owned Supernatural and the sexy goodness that is Sam and Dean but alas, I do not. **

Sam groaned, feeling every wound on his body throbbing. His ribs and his abdomen felt like they were on fire and as he slowly let his eyes opened they hurt too. The light above him was blindingly bright and he wished it would just go away. It was giving him a headache and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep away the day.

"Sammy?" the voice that reached him was soft and worried, breaking through the remaining fog of pain and grogginess. He would recognize that voice anywhere. It was the same voice that looked after him when he was sick, protected him from unseen dangers, and never left him behind.

He let his eyes open once more and was greeted by a pair of anxious green eyes, "De..?"

The eyes were crinkled by a smile, "Yeah bud, it's me. How ya feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a truck. Twice."

Dean chuckled and moved out of his line of vision. Sam turned his head, following his movement, and watched as he flopped down in the hard plastic chair by his bed, "Nope, just a very angry miner ghost. The doctors said they didn't know how you were still somewhat conscious when I brought you in. What with the stab wound and broken bones and the concussion. You got beat to hell Sam."

Sam flinched as he tried to sit up a little higher on the bed and saw Dean's eyes darken angrily. Regret and plain anger lit up his eyes like the fourth of July. Sam knew that look, "It wasn't your fault Dean. There's nothing you could have done."

"I'm the big brother Sam, there's _always_ something I can do. I'm supposed to protect you and instead I let you get captured and nearly killed. What would Dad say if he was here?" Dean raked his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, "He'd tell me I messed up big time that's what he'd say. And I'd agree with him because I royally screwed up. You almost died _again_."

Sam sighed, which hurt, and gave his brother his best glare, "Dean, don't beat yourself up. That ghost was a bastard and he didn't play fair. You did what you could in the situation you were presented with. I'm alive right?"

"Barely" Dean grumbled but dropped the subject.

Sam ignored the comment and grimaced at the needles poking into his wrists, "So how long am I stuck in here?"

Dean smirked, "Don't worry Sammy, you'll be back to geeking up in no time. Doc says he'll release you in about two weeks. Once all of the internal damage has had time to really heal."

"I don't 'geek' it up Dean," Sam said with his best bitchface.

Dean snorted, "Whatever you say. Bitch."

"Jerk."

**Well, it's been a long journey and I feel like it was worth it! Thank you all for sticking with me until the very end! Look out for my next fic with the Winchester brothers! **


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